


Proof of the Pudding

by gracie137



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: ALL THE FLUFF, Anal Sex, Bakery, Bottom Harry Potter, Dating, Engagement, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Getting Back Together, Getting Together, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Matchmaking, Mutual Pining, Oblivious Draco Malfoy, One Shot, POV Draco Malfoy, Pining, Romance, Top Draco Malfoy, literally will give you tooth-ache
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-27
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2019-01-25 02:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12520632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gracie137/pseuds/gracie137
Summary: When Greg's bakery opens on Diagon Alley, Draco doesn’t expect it to the place he ends up finding love, but then again Harry Potter has always defied Draco's expectations.AKA: The One Where Gregory Goyle somehow ends up running both a bakery and a match making service.





	Proof of the Pudding

**Author's Note:**

  * For [FuckingShitBalls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuckingShitBalls/gifts).



> Okay so /ages/ ago, my lovely Drarry friend with the best user name ever was all like "i would love a long term dating to engagement fluffy thing" and i was like "omg I would love to write that!!" and then real life got in the way and I got distracted because I am useless but I finally got my shit together (even if as always this ended up longer than i intended...) and I would like to dedicate this pure tooth-ache fluff to her for her birthday!! Thankyou for supporting me with everything I write and being the best cheerleader I could ask for!! And again happy birthday!!
> 
> I accept no responsibility for needed dentist appointments...
> 
> As per always, kudos and comments add 10 years onto my life span <3

“Everything will be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“When have I ever been wrong about something like this?” Draco sighed, leaning his forearms against the counter and raising his eyebrows at Greg, who was pacing across the shop floor.

Greg stopped his pacing and turned to Draco, his face grim. “Do you _really_ want me to answer that?”

Draco could give Greg that one - perhaps in the past some of his master plans had not been as successful as he had imagined or hoped. But that had been a few years ago when Draco had been blinded by things like naivety, prejudice and hormones. Now, it was three years since the war and Draco liked to think that his plans were slightly more rational.

“It will be fine,” Draco repeated instead of letting Greg open that can of worms.

Greg resumed his pacing and Draco thought it best not to mention that there was a streak of icing sugar on his friend’s face. Greg was stressed enough about the opening of The Cake Lair as it was. Draco was stressed for him.

“What if no one comes?”

“We know people are coming,” Draco said, standing up and gazing at the array of puddings and baked goods that Greg had produced. “Can I have a cake?” There was a red velvet cupcake that had his name on it and Draco had been eyeing it since he arrived this morning to help with set up.

“No,” Greg managed to stop pacing long enough to slap Draco’s hand away. “And we know that a couple of Slytherin and their parents are coming! What if no one else comes? I can’t have my only customers be Slytherins! I’ll be out of business in a week.”

Draco tore his gaze away from the cupcake and massaged his temples. “You won’t go out of business; your stuff is better than any house elf’s. And people will come, we sent out the invitations.”

Greg grumbled something that Draco didn’t catch and slumped down in a chair staring at the clock that Millie had bought him for a _good luck_ present. They had all done everything they could to help Greg get back onto his feet after the war. He had been devastated by Vince’s death. It had been hard enough on Draco losing one of his closest friends, but Greg had lost his boyfriend too.

Greg had always had a thing for baking, and his father had always told him it was _too feminine._ But Goyle Snr. was incarcerated, and with her son spiralling out of control with grief, Katherine Goyle had insisted that Greg do whatever it took to make him happy; baking had been that.

Blaise had done most of the decorating yesterday after taking pity on Greg’s attempt at streamers. Draco had arrived from work half way through and the sight of Blaise Zabini coated in silver glitter had had him laughing hard enough that he had had to sit down and have one of Greg’s cakes to recover. He wished Theo had been there with his camera.

“Hello, Sugar Daddy,” Pansy purred, strutting through the door with Theo at her heels. “Or should I say Sugar Daddies,” she grinned, winking at Draco.

“You should not,” Draco replied.

“Please stop calling Greg that,” Theo laughed, rolling his eyes fondly at his girlfriend. Pansy blew him a kiss.

“I still say you should have called the bakery Sugar Daddy,” Pansy said, her eyes instantly drawn over to the bright array of goodies that were on display.

Greg pulled a face and guided Pansy away from his desserts before she could eat one. Draco had seen the way her eyes had caught on the macaroons. “Yes, it was a great idea.”

Draco recognised the voice Greg was using. It was the one Greg had always used whenever Draco had suggested one of his more elaborate plans.

“You could always put it on a badge?” Draco suggested, smirking at the look of betrayal and horror Greg gave him. “I’ve been told I make excellent badges.”

Theo scoffed. “Who told you that?”

“Pansy, Greg, Vince and a lot of the school,” Draco said.

“The _Potter stinks_ badges were clever,” Pansy shrugged as Theo looked at her in exasperation.

“Please don’t make me a badge,” Greg sighed.

Draco smirked. “I won’t make you a badge if I can have a cake?”

Greg glanced at the clock before glaring at Draco who tried to smile sweetly. “Fine but if you haven’t eaten it in two minutes I’m hexing you.”

Draco nodded, darting over and picking up the red velvet cupcake and taking a bite. It was fantastic and melted in his mouth. If someone had told Draco when he first met Greg that he would grow up to be the best baker Draco had ever met, Draco would have laughed hysterically at them.

“Can I have one too?” Pansy said.

Greg groaned but waved her forward. Pansy shot Draco a conspirator’s grin and picked up a violet macaroon.

“Let me get some pictures of you two eating,” Theo said, holding his camera up. Draco straightened the cuffs of his robes and Pansy popped her hip causing Theo to roll his eyes again.

“Where’s Blaise and Mil?” Greg said, resuming his pacing.

“They’ll be here,” Draco promised, turning away from Theo’s camera to look at the clock. The bakery opened in ten minutes. Everything would be fine, Draco told himself. Greg’s bakery would be a success even if Draco had to bribe people to go to it every day.

* * *

 Luckily for the Malfoy vaults it didn’t seem there would be any reason for Draco to bribe people to come and buy Greg’s puddings. Between Pansy’s invitation list, Draco and Theo’s _Prophet_ connections, and Blaise and Millie badgering everyone they knew, The Cake Lair was full and thriving as soon as it opened.

Draco had raised his eyebrows at the sight of his mother entering with Aunt Andromeda and young Teddy. Greg had been thrilled to see Narcissa and had been even more so delighted to help Teddy pick out his ice cream. After five minutes of Teddy’s indecision, Draco had been dragged into helping Teddy choose against his will whilst Greg went to serve the other customers. His cousin was probably going to be a Hufflepuff he was so indecisive.

Finally, after Teddy picked something and after a bit of schmoozing, Draco grabbed himself a coffee and sat down with Pansy, Blaise and Millie to survey the opening. It was going better than he could have hoped.

“I don’t understand why he won’t wear the apron,” Pansy sighed, leaning back in her chair and swiping her finger through the frosting on her cupcake.

“Because it’s ridiculous?” Millie suggested.

“No that can’t be it,” Blaise smirked, leaning over and stealing the last bit of Millie’s cookie.

Draco took a sip of his coffee. “That apron cost hard earned galleons.”

“Sickles,” Blaise corrected.

Draco and Pansy shared a horrified glance.

“No wonder he won’t wear it,” Pansy said, licking the frosting from her finger.

Draco smiled into his coffee and glanced over at Greg in his smart baker’s outfit. Greg had been horrified when Blaise and Millie had turned up two minutes before opening with a present that consisted of a green apron with _Sugar Daddy_ printed on it in large print. It had been a good luck present from them all and even though he had refused to wear it, Draco had noticed that it calmed Greg down.

A familiar mop of dark hair caught Draco’s eye and he spun his head around, jaw dropping just in time to see Potter and Granger walk into The Cake Lair.

“Is that-” Pansy started.

Blaise whistled. “No way.”

“It is,” Millie said.

“Potter?” Draco spluttered loudly and - judging from Narcissa’s wrinkled nose - in a particularly undignified manner. Draco couldn’t help it, there was just something about Potter had and always would fry Draco’s brain. He hated it.

“Malfoy,” Potter nodded curtly, shoving his hands in the pockets of his blue Mind-Healer trainee robes. Potter glanced over at the rest of the Slytherins and gave them all a strained smile.

“Hello,” Granger said, moving to stand beside Potter, her smile only slightly strained. “We received your invitation.”

Draco’s head shot around to look at Pansy so fast that he hurt his neck. “You invited _them_?”

“You know we’re right here?” Potter snorted.

“Yes, as far as I’m aware I didn’t go blind in the last two seconds,” Draco said, glaring at Potter before turning back to Pansy.

Potter mumbled something to Granger that sounded like, “ _I told you we shouldn’t have come,”_ but Granger just shushed him.

“Actually, Millicent invited us,” Granger said, and Draco knew it wasn’t only his head spinning to stare at Millie in shock. He was going to need to see a Healer for whiplash after this conversation. “So, we thought we would come check it out.”

Potter didn’t seem particularly thrilled about this decision and the blatant lack of obnoxious red hair suggested that Weasel had refused all together.

Draco wished Granger and Potter had made the same decision. It wasn’t that he hated them anymore, or even disliked them. It was just Potter made him uncomfortable with the whole saving his life, speaking at his trial and returning his wand business. Since the returning of the wand they hadn’t spoken and Draco had been perfectly fine with that.

Draco blinked at Millie who simply gave Hermione a polite smile, choosing to ignore all the Slytherins. She had been doing that since about third year. “I’m glad you came.”

“Sorry,” Pansy said sounding anything but sorry, “are you two are friends?”

Granger and Millie exchanged awkward smiles before Granger said: “We’re getting there.”

It was all too much for Draco to cope with and Potter was still standing there looking like he would rather be anywhere else.

“I think my mother just called me,” Draco said, downing his coffee and getting to his feet.

“No she didn’t,” Blaise, _the traitor_ , said.

“Yes,” Draco could feel Potter’s stupidly green eyes on him, “she did.” He marched over to where Narcissa was sat still talking to her sister and Teddy.

It wasn’t that Draco wasn’t aware that Potter was attractive. He had been aware that Potter was attractive for a long time. It had been fourth year the first time Draco had awoken from a dream of messy dark hair, bright eyes and tanned, thick fingers. It wasn’t Draco’s fault that Potter had looked stupidly good flying against that dragon. And then there had been the second task with wet Potter and the Yule ball robes. The Triwizard Tournament had been a difficult adjustment period with boys like Krum, Potter and Diggory swanning about. Not that sixth year was any easier - it was quite difficult knowing that the boy who was meant to be your number one enemy was also the guy you wished would press you up against a wall and snog you senseless. Draco had repressed that like he had most things that year.

Stupid Potter. It brought Draco some comfort that the blue Mind Healer robes were ugly even on Potter.

“Oh, look Teddy, it’s Harry,” Andromeda said, causing Draco’s blood to run cold as he made conversation with his mother and aunt. “I didn’t know Harry was coming today,” Andromeda said, turning her attention to Draco.

Draco glanced over his shoulder at where Potter was standing looking lost, picking at a cupcake. Draco’s mouth pinched. “Me neither.”

“Oh, how lovely,” Narcissa said. “It’s been too long since I spoke to Mr Potter.”

Draco choked on his own tongue. “When do _you_ speak to Potter?”

“We write,” Narcissa said, raising an eyebrow at him. “Do you need a glass of water, darling?” She asked. Draco shook his head, glancing around desperately trying to figure out where he could vanish to next to escape Potter. “Hello, Mr Potter.”

“It’s Harry,” Potter’s deep voice coming from close behind him caused Draco to cringe. “But hello Mrs Malfoy, it’s lovely to see you again.”

“Again?” The word fell from Draco’s mouth before he could stop himself.

“We get lunch sometimes,” Narcissa said as if that made perfect sense and Draco was the strange one in the situation.

Draco nodded dumbly. “Of course.” The next thing he would be told was that Lucius Malfoy and Weasley met up once a week for a pint at the pub.

“Harry!” Teddy cooed, stretching out his arms for Harry, his hair flashing bright blue.

Potter’s face broke into a grin and he crouched down beside Teddy Lupin and ruffled that bright blue hair. “Heya Teds, what you got there?”

Teddy made some sounds that Draco couldn’t interpret but Potter nodded along in understanding. “Sounds great, I’ve got a treacle tart flavoured cupcake myself.”

Draco scoffed, “You always were obsessed with that.”

He could feel Potter’s eyes on him and Draco wondered whether his life would have been simpler if he had just died in the war. Why had he never been able to shut up? And always around Potter. Perhaps Draco was cursed to turn into a blithering idiot whenever Potter was around. He would have to see a healer.

“Yeah,” Potter said slowly, brows furrowed but the corner of his mouth curling up. “Treacle tart’s my favourite.”

The words _I know_ died on Draco’s lips as he met those bright green eyes.

“Draco always was a very observant child,” Draco heard Narcissa say to Andromeda who hummed in agreement.

That stupid smile on Potter’s face grew.

“Tell Granger to try the lemon ice cream and get Weasley some of the caramel fudge,” Draco said, desperate to show it hadn’t just been Potter that he had watched as a child. “Enjoy your pudding.”

“I will,” Potter said, still gazing up Draco with bewildered amusement written on his face. “Thanks Malfoy.”

Draco made a pathetic noise before turning heel and marching over to help Theo with the photographs for the article.

“I always knew he would make a good journalist,” Narcissa’s voice trailed after him and Draco knew his mother well enough to recognise the amusement in her normally icy tone. Draco hated everyone.

* * *

 Draco paused outside the door to The Cake Lair at the sight of bushy hair, and those blue robes. This was the third time he had seen Potter and Granger in here whilst he was stopping by for his lunch break in the couple of weeks since The Cake Lair had opened, and whilst the first two times he had marched straight past and sent Greg an apologetic owl about getting caught up in the office, he was not getting scared out of _his_ friend’s bakery again….

He took a deep breath, adjusted his robes and strode into the shop. “Hello Greg,” he watched Potter jump around wide eyed. “Potter, Granger.”

“Hello Draco,” Granger said and Draco froze. He blinked twice and even Potter was staring at Granger like she had grown a second head. Greg was snickering behind the till. “Oh, come on aren’t we all a bit old for this surname thing?” Granger huffed, tucking a dark curl behind her ear.

“No,” Draco and Potter said at the same time. Draco smirked and caught Potter’s eye before realising what he was doing and glancing away quickly. He and Potter did not share smiles.

Granger glared at them both before turning back to Greg with a tentative smile. “Now, we were talking about the lemon cake recipe?”

Draco rubbed his temples. “I think I’ve gone mad.”

“I could have told you that,” said Potter.

Draco’s sharp retort died on his lips when he saw the smile Potter was giving him. It was awkward and small, and it seemed friendly. Potter had been teasing him.

“Suppose you would know,” Draco said, raising an eyebrow at the blue robes.

Potter grinned and rubbed the back of his head. “Suppose I would.”

Draco glanced over to where Greg was still speaking to Granger. “You know I never pegged you of all people as wanting to be a Mind Healer. I presumed you’d be doing something more…”

“Attention seeking?” Potter asked, raising his eyebrows.

Draco smirked. “Heroic.”

“Yeah, I tried Auror training and it really wasn’t for me. Ron loves it but I just… I couldn’t get into it,” Potter fidgeted with the sleeves of his robes. “I started seeing a Mind Healer after the War, cause, you know,” Potter shrugged. Draco did know, Pansy had made him see one as well. She had refused to be woken up by his screaming nightmares seven nights a week. He had hated her at the time but now he understood that she had done it because she cared. He couldn’t have done it alone. “And decided I wanted to be one, specialise in children, you know.”

“Saint Potter,” Draco said. Against his will a smile curled at his lips and Potter, who had looked like he was about to thump Draco, let out a laugh. Draco bit his lip, he felt there was more he ought to say but he couldn’t find the words.

“You work for the _Prophet_ don’t you?” Potter said. Draco readied himself for an insult. Perhaps he deserved it. Draco had been a right shit with Potter and the _Prophet_ back in fourth year. “Your articles are good.”

Draco’s eyebrows shot up. He had not been expecting that. “You’ve read them?”

If it wasn’t for the fact Draco would have to officially check himself in to St. Mungo’s, Draco would have said that Potter’s brown cheeks blushed. “Yeah, I read anything that’s not about me in the _Prophet_ and you never write about me.”

“I never understood the hype,” Draco said and this time when Potter smiled at him, he smiled back.

The sound of someone clearing their throat had Draco and Potter turning to find Granger looking at them with a curious expression on her face. “You ready Harry?”

Potter nodded, shoving his hands into his pockets and ducking his head. “Yeah I am.”

Draco stepped back to let them pass, his eyes glued to the way Potter’s hair stuck up at the back of his head. It made him look like he had just had someone running their hands through it.

Potter paused by the door, glancing over his shoulder and meeting Draco’s eyes. “Ron really liked the fudge by the way.”

Draco frowned. Why was Potter telling him that?

“At the opening,” Potter swallowed, “You recommended the caramel fudge for Ron and he loved it.”

“Oh,” Draco said, “I’m glad.”

“Me too,” Greg’s voice came from behind him. Draco kept looking at Potter, who gave him another awkward smile and mumbled something about seeing Draco around before hurrying after Granger.

“Potter’s strange,” Draco said, shaking his head and walking over to inspect what baked good he fancied today.

“He’s pretty good looking, if you like that,” Greg said.

Draco scowled at his friend. “Hmph, if you like specky gits, you mean?”

“Sure.”

* * *

 

Draco was getting used to seeing Potter every time he came into Greg’s for his lunch break sugar rush. He hadn’t realised how much of a sweet tooth Potter had, not that Draco could blame him. If Draco didn’t watched Greg cook he would swear that Greg slipped something addictive into his cakes.

Blaise had actually pulled Greg up on it once after throwing a hissy fit that Greg was ruining his waistline. It had brought Draco a vicious stab of glee that even Blaise Zabini wasn’t naturally in perfect shape.

Draco had his lunch at Greg’s every day to keep Greg company and to ensure that he got a sweet pick-me-up so he could get through the afternoon without hexing some of the stupid employees at the _Prophet_. And nearly every day in the two months since The Cake Lair had opened there was Potter, usually with Granger, though more recently he was alone.

It was strange getting to know Potter over baked goods but Draco would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy their conversations. Potter was sharp and had such a dry sense of humour that sometimes Draco found himself thrown in the lurch and fighting to keep up. They still squabbled over nearly everything from Quidditch to music to the correct way to make a cup of tea - Potter was a plebeian who thought it was acceptable to put the milk in first – but Draco liked that. He wouldn’t have known what to do with a docile Potter.

“Have you two ever considered going somewhere else for lunch?” Greg asked one day, when Draco and Potter were deep in the middle of discussing Lee Jordan’s chat show last night.

Draco frowned. “Why would I do that? I come here to see you.”

Greg gave him an expression that Draco couldn’t decipher and Draco turned to Potter in despair, but Potter was frowning, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“It could be nice to mix things up for lunch,” Potter shrugged, tracing his finger around the edge of his cup.

“Then why do you keep coming here?” Draco asked, brushing a stray strand of his hair off his face. It was getting long enough that it kept falling into his eyes.

Potter’s frown deepened and he glared at Draco. “I don’t know.”

“I never pegged you for having this much of a sweet tooth,” Draco said, wanting that frown to leave Potter’s face. He didn’t understand what he had done to cause it. If Potter wanted to have lunch somewhere else that was up to him. He wasn’t obligated to come here and spend time with Draco, no matter how much Draco enjoyed it.

“I like the odd sweet thing, but I didn’t get loads of it as a kid so I’m not a huge fan. Not all of us were spoilt with packages of sweets at Hogwarts,” Potter said, raising his eyebrows. There wasn’t that easy smile back on his face yet but the frown was gone.

Draco laughed and waved his hand at Potter in dismissal, trying not to be too pleased that Potter had noticed Draco all the way over at the Slytherin table. “I’ve always liked sweet things.”

“Good to know,” Potter smirked and for a minute second Draco could have sworn Potter was flirting with him. He pushed the rest of his cake away from him. The sugar was clearly going to his brain.

Greg made a small noise from behind him and Draco frowned. “I’m full,” he said. He didn’t see why Greg was so hurt that Draco hadn’t finished his cake.

Greg sighed and shook his head before collecting Draco’s plate. “Sure.”

Draco raised his eyebrows at his friend before turning back to Potter and engaging him in a debate about his opinion on Oliver Wood’s promotion to the youngest professional Quidditch captain in history.

* * *

 

“Potter’s here with Wood,” Pansy said, inspecting her nails as she reached out and took a glass of champagne.

Draco grabbed his own glass of champagne. “I can see that.”

“What do you think about that?” Greg asked.

Draco took a sip of his champagne. “I don’t particularly care, though I must say it explains why Potter has been so adamant that Wood deserved that Captainship.”

Greg just hummed.

Draco didn’t care. Why would Draco care? It wasn’t as if he had thought that he and Potter were going to be attending the gala together. Sure, they had both discussed that they were going to the fundraising gala, but there had been no discussion of the fact they would be attending together.

A friendly _see you there_ was all Potter had given Draco with that stupid, dopey grin of his. Potter had omitted the fact that he would be attending with Wood, but Draco supposed it was none of his business who Potter dated. Though Potter could have mentioned it, they had been having lunch together most days for nearly three months now.

“You’ve finished your glass,” Greg said.

Draco glanced down at his already empty glass, he hadn’t realised he was drinking it so quickly. “So I have.”

“You sure you don’t care that Potter is here with Wood?” Pansy asked, her red lips curling up into a smirk. Draco knew she had spent weeks in the labs developing a lipstick that didn’t dry out or smudge. Pansy’s magical makeup range would be everywhere in the next couple of years.

Draco scowled at Pansy and Vanished his glass. “Of course I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t,” Greg agreed. Draco narrowed his eyes at him and Greg smiled in that dumb, naïve way of his. Draco was pretty sure that Greg was smarter than he let on sometimes.

“I’m going to get another drink and socialise,” Draco huffed, straightening the cuffs of his robes and storming off.

“Of course you are,” he heard Pansy say, but he refused to rise to the sound of their laughter. He needed better friends.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long to locate another glass of champagne and someone to talk to who wasn’t going to make thinly veiled comments about Draco’s old school crush on Potter. He was over that. He had never even fancied Potter, Potter had just been attractive. And now he was funny, interesting and attractive.

Draco let himself get sucked into a conversation with Susan Bones who also worked at the _Prophet_. She specialised in the politics section.

“Oh Hermione, I’ve been meaning to talk to you about the Werewolf rights act you’re pushing forward.”

Draco’s blood ran cold as Susan waved over Granger and a familiar red head. He had only seen Weasley a couple of times in the entire time that Potter had been coming to The Cake Lair and their conversations had been limited to fudge, Quidditch and at one desperate moment Wizarding Chess.

“Hello, Susan, Draco,” Granger smiled politely before turning to Susan and nattering away about her latest project.

Draco glanced about trying to find someone else to speak to other than Weasley.

“Good champagne.”

It appeared Weasley was going to try and make conversation. Draco turned back to Weasley, and swallowed a cruel remark about how any champagne would be good to someone like a Weasley.

“Yes, they’ve gone all out,” Draco said. Weasley was wearing what looked like brand-new robes, they were black and smart. Draco’s own were midnight blue. “Your robes are from A Thimble and Thread, yes?” Draco asked after a moment’s pause.

Weasley swallowed. He had filled out in his years of Auror training but there was still something too ginger and freckly for Draco to ever actually fancy. “Yes,” judging from the clench of Weasley’s jaw he expected Draco to insult him. For one childish second, Draco was tempted to rise to the expectation.

“So are mine,” Draco said, “I love Alfred’s work.”

Weasley’s eyebrows shot up before a tentative smile grew on his face. “Me too, I tend to find it hard to find robes cause I’m pretty tall, you know,” Draco did know. Weasley was bizarrely lankly. Draco wasn’t short by any means and he had to look up to Weasley, it had and always would irritate him immensely.

“Yes, and the quality of the robes is worth every galleon. They last years,” Draco said, sipping on his champagne.

Weasley nodded eagerly. “Definitely!”

They fell into an awkward silence again.

Draco’s eyes fell on Potter who had thrown his head back laughing at something Wood had said. “I didn’t know Potter was dating Wood,” Draco said, turning to Weasley who was watching him curiously.

Weasley sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and smiled. “He’s not.”

“Oh,” Draco said, raising his eyebrows. “Then why did he bring Wood here as his date?”

“He didn’t,” Weasley said, smile growing.

“Oh,” Draco repeated.

Weasley laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “You should go speak to Harry.”

“And why would I do that?” Draco asked, stepping back nose wrinkled.

Weasley frowned at him before laughing again. “Whatever Malfoy, do what you want.”

“Are you aware you’re making no sense?” Draco said.

 Weasley shrugged. “Just go speak to Harry.”

Draco scowled at Weasley. “I have better people to talk to.” He did. Galas like this were a great schmoozing situation and Lucius had always taught him to keep an eye open at all times. He never knew when a political scandal would erupt. Lucius had also taught him that galas were the perfect place for bribery to occur and whilst Draco wasn’t in the business of taking bribes, he was in the business of exposing them.

Who did Weasley think he was demanding Draco go and talk to Potter? Yes, perhaps Draco and Potter were friends now – though apparently not close enough for Potter to disclose whatever he was doing with Wood as his date / non-date thing – but that didn’t mean they sought each other out in public. Draco barely saw Potter aside from at lunch times at The Cake Lair. And would it be nice to see Potter outside of lunch time, yes, but Potter had never suggested it.

Okay, there was that time Potter suggested Draco join the Gryffindors down the pub on Friday night but Draco had presumed Potter had been joking. Gryffindors! It had been a ridiculous request.

The night went on and Draco danced with Pansy, drank ample amounts of champagne and avoided Weasley and his strange looks at all costs. At one point, he had seen Potter and Greg chatting away in the corner but thought nothing of it until Potter appeared behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“Goyle said you were looking for me?”

Draco frowned. “I was?”

Potter shoved his hands into his robe pockets, apparently not caring that it ruined the line of them. “That’s what he said.”

Draco Vanished his once again champagne glass and his frown deepened. “I don’t think I was.”

“Oh,” Potter said, suddenly looking like kicked Crup. “You having a good night?”

“Yes, the champagne is nice. You seem to be having fun with Wood,” Draco said, sounding what he was sure was breezy and casual.

“Oliver?” Potter’s kicked Crup expression changed to one of amusement. “Yeah, we agreed to go stag together.”

“You did?” Draco blurted out. He knew Weasley had told him that Potter wasn’t with Wood but he hadn’t believed it. They had looked to be having so much fun together. And he would understand why Wood fancied Potter, he was very attractive and could even be quite charming when he wasn’t being a broody, argumentative git.

“How much have you had to drink?” Potter was laughing and Draco realised that he had just said all of that out loud.

Draco stared at his empty hand sadly. “More than I should’ve.”

“So is it the alcohol or you that thinks I’m attractive and charming?” Potter asked, his eyes bright. He was wearing green robes that made his eyes look infinite and Draco’s mouth went dry.

“I think you’re a broody, argumentative git,” Draco mumbled, his cheeks burning red. The Malfoy pale skin had its downfalls.

“That can be attractive and charming,” Potter said, grinning. Draco opened his mouth to protest when Potter leaned in close to him. “Don’t worry, I think you can be attractive and charming when you’re not being a dickhead, and I can promise it’s not just the champagne talking.”

Draco opened and closed his mouth, in an embarrassing impression of a fish.

Potter’s breath had been warm against his ear and Draco couldn’t look away from those bright, green eyes. Potter had ruined green eyes for him.

“Are you too drunk to dance?” Potter asked, holding out his hand. Draco stared at Potter’s hand before snapping his eyes back up to Potter’s face, not even thinking about the crowd. Not even caring about what people would say at the sight of Draco Malfoy, Death Eater, dancing with their precious Harry Potter, Saviour of the wizarding world.

“I didn’t know you danced,” Draco said.

Potter smiled and Draco’s breath caught. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”

“I suppose there is.”

Potter laughed and nodded at his hand. “Also, I’m quite drunk and I’d like to dance with you.”

“Luckily for you then, a Malfoy is never too drunk to dance,” Draco said, unable to stop smiling as he slipped his pale hand into Potter’s dark one and letting Potter pull him onto the dance floor. Perhaps tomorrow morning he would realise how awful an idea it was, but dancing to the orchestra with Potter’s body pressed against his, he couldn’t find it in himself to protest.

* * *

 

Draco walked past The Cake Lair for the fifth time, trying to get up the strength to walk inside. He had spotted that stupid head of dark hair when he first walked past and so he had kept going. Then he’d berated himself for being a coward and turned around and promptly walked straight past the door again.

Draco wasn’t going to be a coward. He just didn’t know if Potter had meant anything by his words at the gala on Friday night. Sure, Potter had said Draco was attractive and it wasn’t just the alcohol talking but had he really meant it? And sure, Potter had danced with Draco all night until the two of them were light-headed and laughing in near hysterics. Well, Draco was. Draco was sure Lucius would have been mortified by his son’s behaviour.

Draco didn’t know what Potter had meant by it all. Maybe Potter just danced and laughed and flirted with all his friends.

Taking a deep breath, Draco pushed open the door to The Cake Lair just in time to watch Potter and Greg jump apart from where their heads were bent.

“Hullo,” Draco said primly, offering them both polite nods.

Potter’s face seemed to fall for a moment before he nodded back at Draco.

“For Merlins sake,” Greg huffed.

“I beg your pardon?” Draco frowned, watching as Potter spun around glaring at Greg.

“Draco, would you like to take Harry on a date?”

“Harry?” Draco spluttered at the same time that Potter let out a yelp of protest.

All Draco’s brain could process was that Greg had just called Potter _Harry_.

“Yes Draco, Harry Potter: messy hair, glasses, scar, saved the wizarding world that time?” Greg said, raising his eyebrows. He had more flour on his nose, Draco noticed in his dazed state. “Would you like to take Harry Potter on a date?”

“Harry Potter,” Draco said, the word _Harry_ felt strange in his mouth. He couldn’t think of the last time he had called Potter anything other than well… _Potter_ …

“Yes Draco, Harry Potter,” Greg repeated.

Potter’s cheeks were bright red as he glowered at Greg. “You said you wouldn’t tell him!”

“Slytherins say a lot of things,” Greg shrugged, moving away from the till to rearrange some of the biscuits. “And anyway, I couldn’t take any longer of watching the two of you flirt.”

“We were not flirting,” Draco hissed, only just managing not to stomp his foot because he was twenty-one not nine.

Potter gazed at Draco with those big green eyes. “Weren’t we?”

“No! Yes! I suppose, kind of… I don’t know!”

“You were,” Greg said.

“Oh shut up,” Draco hissed.

Greg mimed zipping his mouth and slowly retreated from the front of the store back into the kitchen.

“So would you?”

Draco stopped glaring at where Greg had been standing and turned to face Potter who was shuffling, his hands shoved into his pockets again.

“Would I what?”

“Like to go on a date?”

Draco swallowed. This couldn’t be happening. If he pinched himself he would wake up in his bed or perhaps back in the Slytherin dorms. There was no way Potter was asking him -

“You don’t have to of course, I mean if I misread it all then…” Potter trailed off.

“You didn’t,” Draco said, biting his lip.

Potter glanced up again, a glimmer of hope on his face. “I didn’t?”

Draco shook his head. He had never felt so on his back foot, but then again Potter had always had that effect on Draco. Draco had never been able to be the suave, charming person that he knew he could be with Potter.

“So you would want to go on a date?” Potter grinned, it was a slow and easy smile and Draco’s chest contracted.

“Yeah, I would,” Draco nodded.

A squeal sounded from the kitchen and he and Potter laughed, the tension diffusing.

Potter ran a hand through his hair and Draco’s eyes tracked the movement. “When are you free?”

“Does Friday night work for you? I know you have a pretty intense training schedule,” Draco said, shooting Potter’s blue robes a look.

Potter pulled a face. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy. Thursday actually works best for me, I know it’s a pretty shitty day but-”

“Thursday’s good,” Draco nodded. He had always thought of Thursdays as the shittiest day of the week. They were always boring and long, and there was always an awful selection of doughnuts in the coffee room. However, now it was Draco’s favourite day ever. He had a date with Potter.

“Thursday,” Potter repeated, grinning. “I’ll owl you.”

“Yeah, that’d be good,” Draco said.

“I’ve got to get back now,” Potter said. Draco glanced over at the clock and realised how much time he had wasted by being too afraid to walk through the door. “But I’ll see you Thursday.”

“See you Thursday,” Draco said as he watched Potter’s retreating back. He was not smiling to himself, he was not. Malfoys were dignified and in control and… And Draco was smiling to himself like a lunatic.

“Fucking finally,” Greg grunted, reappearing from the kitchen.

Draco turned around and tried to scowl at him. “You’re a bad friend.”

“Because I just did the impossible and got you a date with Harry Potter?”

“You emotionally scarred me is what you did,” Draco said, still smiling despite himself. He peered at the goods in front of him. “I think I deserve a free cupcake for the trauma.”

Greg rolled his eyes but passed Draco one of the red velvet cupcakes.

Draco took it and was just about to take a bite when he glanced up frowning. “Since when did you call Potter _Harry_?”

“Shut up and eat your cupcake,” Greg said. Draco rolled his eyes but didn’t protest. Greg had just got him a date with Potter after all. Draco felt himself beginning to smile again and resolved to blame it on the cake if anybody asked.

* * *

 

Draco shifted on Potter’s sofa. It was their fifth date and Potter had invited him round to watch some Muggle movies and whatever Potter called take-away.

Potter had promised that Draco would enjoy the curry, but Draco was slightly dubious. He craned his neck to where Potter was chatting away to someone at the door. Potter had claimed he was something of a _regular_ at this place. Draco despaired for Potter at times.

Draco had brought jeans for this date. Draco Malfoy - thanks to Millie and Granger - was wearing jeans. Draco was almost glad for a moment that his father was too busy drooling in St. Mungo’s to see him. Draco pushed all thoughts of Lucius from his mind. They just depressed him.

“Did you fancy asking them to join us?” Draco asked dryly by the time Potter finally returned holding a white paper bag that was omitting some surprisingly nice smells.

Potter laughed and rolled his eyes. “Don’t get jealous.”

“I wasn’t,” Draco huffed as Potter grinned at him and started to set out the silver cartons on the table. “So, what is this?”

“I got us the experimentation deal they offer, which means we have Midras, Rogan Josh, Tikka Masala, Pila Rice, Naan, Onion Bhaji and Brinjal Bhaji,” Potter explained, pointing at each of the dishes in turn.

Draco raised his eyebrows. “I have no idea what any of what you just said means, but I’m hoping you’re not trying to kill me.”

“I think we’re past that,” Potter said, bending down and loading up a plate with a little for everything for Draco to try. He held out the plate for Draco to try, a grin on his face. “Do you trust me?”

“Am I stupid to?” Draco asked.

Potter laughed. “I won’t let you burn your mouth.” Draco narrowed his eyes in suspicion, but took the plate. He did trust Potter and maybe he was an idiot because of that. Then again, Potter was a chivalrous Gryffindor so how stupid could trusting him be?

Draco found out that the answer to that question was: trusting Potter was _extremely stupid_. Draco’s mouth was burning and no amount of water could quench it and Potter was in hysterics on the sofa, not even paying attention to the movie he had put on. Draco had been extremely smug when he had shocked Potter by understanding movies - apparently Weasley had been terrified by them at first. Draco didn’t divulge the information that Blaise had had a Muggle step-father at one point and so had taught Draco about films. However, Draco had successfully made a fool of himself by taking a far too large bite of the heinously spicy curry Potter had put on his plate.

“I am never eating this again,” Draco huffed, even though the Naan bread and Chicken Tikka Masala were quite pleasant.

Potter wiped a tear from his eye and Draco kicked him. Potter caught Draco’s foot and wrapped his hand Draco’s ankle, thumb rubbing soft circles. “How about I cook it for you myself next time?”

“How is that any better?”

“I’ll make you something simple,” Potter promised, waving his hand and dimming the lights. Draco thought Potter’s wandless magic was ridiculously hot and the fact Potter seemed so unaware of it just made it worse. “Come on, Hermione’s been helping me research my dad’s heritage and so I’m learning some of the recipes.” Draco pretended to think about it for a moment. “Please,” Potter pouted.

“Is this your way of asking me on another date?” Draco teased, trying to pretend that he was ecstatic that Potter wanted another date. They had been going on dates for nearly two months now and Draco was still waiting for it to all crash down.

“I’d like a lot more dates with you,” Potter said, his thumb still rubbing against Draco’s ankle.

Draco froze and glanced over at Potter who was now staring at the TV. “You would?” He asked softly, biting his lip. It all seemed so surreal.

Potter turned his head. “Yeah. Would you like to go on more dates with me?”

Draco nodded, he wasn’t sure if he was breathing properly. “Are you asking what I think you’re asking?” Draco couldn’t figure out if his over dramatic mind was running a thousand miles faster than necessary. Surely Potter wasn’t asking to be his boyfriend.

“What do you think I’m asking?” Potter looked nervous.

“Don’t make me say it.”

A smile grew on Potter’s face and he leaned over and pulled Draco closer. Draco let himself be pulled so that he was straddling Potter’s lap, movie forgotten in the background. “Say it.”

“You say it,” Draco countered, running his hands up Potter’s arms.

Potter rolled his eyes. “Will you be my _boyfriend_?”

“As you asked so nicely Potter.”

“Harry.”

Draco raised his eyebrows and Potter grinned at him, knotting his fingers in Draco’s shirt.

“If you’re my boyfriend you have to call me Harry.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“Is that a yes, _Draco_?”

Draco could see the challenge in the curve of Potter’s mouth and he had never been able to back down from a challenge from Potter - Harry, he corrected. “It’s a yes, _Harry_ ,” he said, leaning down and claiming Potter – Harry - his _boyfriend’s_ mouth in a soft kiss. Harry hummed and pulled Draco even closer and Draco smiled. He could get used to this.

* * *

 

Draco felt the bed dip as Harry returned from the bathroom and then his mouth was brushing against Draco’s neck. Draco arched his neck letting Harry have more access and smiled sleepily as Harry lay down and wrapped his arms around Draco again. There was nothing Draco liked more after all this time than sleepy mornings in bed with Harry. He didn’t get them much with Harry’s training schedule so he treasured them even more.

“You need to shave,” Draco mumbled at the soft burn of Harry’s stubble.

Harry laughed and Draco felt it against his skin. “You love it.”

“Don’t presume to know me,” Draco muttered as he always did, liking the way Harry laughed again. Harry’s hand traced lazy patterns across Draco’s hip bones an Draco hummed in satisfaction, pressing back closer to Harry.

“What are your Christmas plans?” Harry asked.

Draco let out a soft groan. The biggest problem with Harry’s stupid schedule was it meant that he was useless at lie ins because he was trained to rising early. “Too early.”

Harry nipped at Draco’s ear. “I want to know.”

Draco huffed and rolled over, scowling at Harry who just smiled at him. Draco did his best to stay mad but he couldn’t resist Harry smiling at him sleepily. “I think we’ve got drinks at the Parkinson’s on Christmas Eve and then Christmas Day I imagine Mother will want to spend at least part of it with Father at St. Mungo’s, and she mentioned something about spending the other half with Andromeda,” Draco shrugged.

Harry nodded. “Andromeda’s spending Christmas at the Weasleys.”

“Oh, I imagine Mother must have been mistaken then,” Draco said. There was no way the Weasleys were inviting them over for Christmas lunch and eggnog. Draco had bonded considerably with the Weasleys in the year he and Harry had been dating, but it wasn’t particularly easy to improve the relationship they had. Not wanting to murder each other was a step up. However, that didn’t mean that Molly and Arthur Weasley would be opening their arms to him and Narcissa anytime soon. “We’ll go to St. Mungo’s and then return to the Manor then.”

Harry chewed on his bottom lip and entwined their fingers. “Don’t go back to the Manor.”

“Do you want me to stay at St. Mungo’s all day?” Draco frowned.

“I want to spend Christmas with you,” Harry said, the sunlight coming through the blinds and illuminating the soft freckles on his face.

“But the Weasleys?” Draco swallowed.

“They’ll be happy to have you,” Harry said, with such confidence that Draco almost believed him. Draco opened his mouth to protest when Harry leaned in and kissed him quiet. “I love you and they know that, so they will be happy to have you.”

Draco’s brow furrowed. “Mother won’t be at her most pleasant,” he left the words _after seeing Father_ unsaid. Harry knew what Lucius Malfoy had become. Harry had worked on the ward where Lucius now lived, a hollow shell of the man that Draco had known, loved and even hated at times. It had been one year in Azkaban after the war that Lucius’s mind had shattered beyond repair and he had been shipped off to St. Mungo’s for the mind healers to try fix. Four years later and they hadn’t managed to do anything.

“That’s okay,” Harry said. They fell into an easy silence.

Harry wanted to spend Christmas with Draco. The thought was so overwhelmingly happy that Draco couldn’t help but smile. He buried his head into the crook of Harry’s neck so Harry wouldn’t see.

“I can come with you to St. Mungo’s if you’d like,” Harry said.

Draco raised his head. “You don’t have to, I know it’s not fun.” Harry had accompanied Draco to see Lucius a couple of times recently and whilst it never went badly, it was never enjoyable. Draco hated anyone seeing his Father like that, even Harry who never judged or said anything. Even Harry who loved him.

“I want to be there for you,” Harry said. “Let me be there for you.”

Draco swallowed trying not to be overcome by the tightness in his throat.

“Want me to come?”

Draco nodded and kissed Harry deeply before pulling back breathless. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

* * *

 Draco poked at the red velvet cake in front of him. It had been two months, wasn’t he supposed to be better now? Pansy had gotten over Theo quickly enough, all it had taken her was burning every picture they had together and all of the clothes he had left at her apartment. They were even pleasant to each other now.

Every time Draco had seen Harry since they decided to take a break, it had felt like his heart was physically being ripped out of his chest. And the wanker had the audacity to look happy. To be photographed walking around with Ginny Weasley laughing. To be down the Leaky with Hermione and Ron having a pint. To be everywhere without Draco and not seeming to give a shit.

Draco hated him. Draco fucking hated him, except he didn’t. Draco didn’t hate Harry fucking Potter at all. Draco was an idiot, an absolute idiot who after three years of a relationship, one year of living together, and two months apart was still just as in love with Harry Potter as he had been at the height of their relationship.

“I hate the colour red,” Draco grumbled, squishing the cupcake violently with his fork.

“But red velvet is your favourite,” Greg sighed, taking a sip from his tea.

“I hate the colour red,” Draco repeated. Greg’s face twisted in that way that suggested he wanted to say something but didn’t know how to say it. Draco certainly wasn’t going to give him the words because Draco _still_ didn’t want to have this conversation.

Draco didn’t know what had gone wrong. Things had just… they had gotten stilted and stressful as Harry’s workload grew and Draco had dealt particularly badly with Lucius’s death, and they had snapped. They had continued snapping at each other night after night until it had become too much and they had had to take some time apart.

The second Draco left Grimmauld Place and arrived in Greg’s house he had regretted leaving. However, he had been too cowardly and prideful to go back. So here they were two months later and the only communication they had had was screaming at each other that one time over the Floo after Draco had sent Greg and Pansy to pick up his remaining stuff. Draco hadn’t meant to cause a fight, but he had been hurting and he had always lashed out when he hurt.

Harry always had been a stubborn git.

Greg refilled Draco’s cup of tea and glanced at the clock. “You can’t avoid the colour red for the rest of your life, you know.”

“Watch me,” Draco said, he squashed the cupcake again with a violent stab of satisfaction. He didn’t need Harry anyway. Draco was fine without him. Also, no Harry meant none of Harry’s annoying do-gooder friends and Draco’s life was much better without them. It didn’t matter that debating politics with Hermione was fascinating and Ron was the only good chess challenge Draco had ever had. His life was easier without them all.

“Draco,” Greg frowned and leaned forward, one of his big beefy hands on Draco’s. “You know I just want you to be happy, right?”

Draco glanced up from the offensive cupcake and stared at his friend, his eyes narrowing. “What have you done?”

Greg gave him a sad smile and squeezed his hand just as a loud crack echoed around The Cake Lair.

“Greg,” Draco said, eyes widening just as a familiar voice rang out.

“What the fuck Hermione? Where have you…” Harry’s voice trailed off.

Draco’s chest constricted as he gazed at Greg, his face contorted with horror. Greg squeezed Draco’s hand again and Draco snatched his hand back, not daring to look up from Greg to where he knew Harry would be standing.

“Hermione,” Harry hissed and Draco’s jaw tightened.

“Look, I’m sorry but you’re both clearly far too stubborn and have your heads far too far up your own arses to sort this out on your own so we’ve taken matters into our own hands,” Hermione said as if fucking about with Draco and Harry was merely a logical solution to an equation that needed solving.

Draco glared at his cake.

“And before you try Harry, you can’t Apparate out of here,” Hermione added. Draco imagined Harry had his wand out.

“The fuck?” Harry spluttered.

Hermione sighed and Draco imagined she was rubbing her temples, he had noticed she did that when stressed. “Just talk to each other please. We’ll be out back.”

Draco didn’t look up from his cupcake as Greg stood and patted him on the back. Draco didn’t care that he was about to turn twenty-five, he was going to act like a child as much as he wanted about being blindsided by his _supposed_ friends. Perhaps Draco ought to befriend more Hufflepuffs, he knew Hufflepuffs would never do this to him.

He heard Harry’s footsteps and then a bang. “They’ve fucking locked us in here.”

“Well they weren’t going to go to all this effort and then leave the door unlocked,” Draco scoffed, still refusing to look away from the cake. He was pretty sure if he looked at Harry then all the work he had done putting his heart back together would shatter again.

“Oh fuck off,” Harry muttered. Draco could hear the scowl in his voice.

“No can-do, Potter,” Draco said.

There was a pause and the sound of Harry swallowing. “Don’t call me Potter.”

“That’s your name, isn’t it?”

“Draco…” Harry’s voice cracked and Draco’s restraint gave way, he glanced up and met those green eyes. He had never understood how Harry’s eyes could be so vivid, how they could contain every shade of green under the sun. Draco’s breath caught as he took in Harry’s thick black lashes, messy hair and stubble. Draco knew if he got close enough he would be able to see those blasted freckles. Draco gripped the table to ensure he didn’t do anything stupid.

“Yes?”

Harry shoved his hands into his pockets and Draco hated how well he knew the gesture. He knew that in a second Harry would shift on his feet, hips moving forward as he tried to find the words to say. Draco was right.

“I’ve urm…” Harry ran his hand through his hair and Draco gripped the table tighter. “I’ve, you know...”

“Can’t say I do,” Draco sniffed.

A rueful smile tugged at Harry’s lips and Draco was hit by how handsome he was. Fuck, Draco missed him.

“I’ve missed you,” said Harry.

“Then why didn’t you call?” Draco fought to keep his voice even, to not let Harry show much his words had hit home.

Harry frowned. “It takes two to tango.”

“What?”

“You didn’t call me,” Harry huffed. “You sent Greg and Pansy to get your stuff.”

“You told me to get out because you needed a break from me!” Draco felt his voice raising and hated Harry. Hated how Harry short circuited everything in Draco’s brain.

“I didn’t mean it and if you remember correctly you told me you didn’t want to see my _obnoxious and infuriating face_ until you were ready,” Harry’s own voice rose but as soon as that anger had sparked in him, it seemed to leave and his shoulders slumped. “I don’t want to argue anymore.”

Draco bit his bottom lip. “Me neither.”

Harry dropped down into the seat opposite Draco, thick brows furrowed. “I also don’t want to lose everything we have.”

“Me neither,” Draco said, unable to look away from those bright green eyes. Harry’s hair had gotten longer in the two-month break, Draco wanted to tangle his hands in it.

Harry nodded and cracked his knuckles.

“Stop that,” Draco tutted automatically.

A half grin curled at Harry’s lips. “How have you been?”

 _Okay. Fine. Better._ “Pretty shit,” Draco confessed, breaking the eye-contact. Between the loss of his father a few months back and losing Harry, he had felt so alone. He knew he had his friends and they had been amazing, but they weren’t Harry.

“Me too,” Harry said, reaching out and tentatively taking one of Draco’s hands. “Can we start again?”

Draco shook his head and Harry’s face fell. “I don’t want to start again, I don’t want to erase everything,” he entwined their fingers. “I want us to learn to be better.”

Harry smiled again and for the first time since Draco had marched out of Grimmauld Place, Draco felt his heart flutter again. He let himself smile.

“We’ll be better,” Harry promised and Draco believed him. He wasn’t letting Harry slip through his fingers again.

* * *

“What are we doing here?” Draco giggled, tightening his grip on Harry’s hand as Harry unlocked the door to The Cake Lair with his wand.

“Told Greg that I would be craving some of his treacle tart cupcakes after dinner and he said he’d alter the wards for us,” Harry said, his smile lazy and easy after the couple of bottles of wine they had shared at dinner.

“Is this why we couldn’t have pudding at the restaurant?” Draco said, rolling his eyes fondly and letting Harry pull him into The Cake Lair.

Harry nodded. “You know Greg’s is always better.”

“I’m not protesting,” Draco laughed. Harry waved his hand and the lights flickered on casting the shop in a dim light.

“Red velvet cake?” Harry asked, heading past the till into the kitchen.

“You know me so well,” Draco called after him, smiling to himself as he gazed around The Cake Lair. It seemed so long ago since that fateful opening, over seven years now. Fuck, Draco was nearly thirty. He had been with Harry for seven years tonight. Seven was a magical number, Narcissa had always told him, and he had to admit that was true. This anniversary had been one of the best ever and he couldn’t wait to get home and fuck Harry slowly all-night long.

“Harry,” Draco started before turning around and pausing, his breath catching in his throat. “Harry,” he repeated.

“Draco,” Harry said softly, that heart-melting grin still on his face.

“Harry,” Draco couldn’t think of anything else to say because there was his boyfriend on one knee, holding a perfectly iced red velvet cupcake with a silver ring on top. “Are you?”

Harry nodded. “It was here in The Cake Lair that I realised I wanted to get know you better, it was here that you agreed to come on a date with me, and from that date I realised I wanted to take you on as many dates as you’d allow me to. It was here that I told you I loved you when you got icing on your nose and licked it off yourself because you’re a stubborn git…” Harry paused and smiled, “This was better in my head.”

“It’s perfect,” Draco’s voice cracked.

“It was here that we decided we were too good to give up and so when I realised I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you, I knew here was the only place that I could ask you, so I guess what I’m trying to say is-”

“Yes!” Draco blurted out.

Harry raised his eyebrows and laughed. “I haven’t finished.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Draco said, not caring that Harry didn’t ask the question. He dropped to his knees and pulled Harry in for a deep, desperate kiss, tongue slipping into his mouth and tasting the rich elf wine they had been drinking.

Harry pulled back and Draco whined at the loss. “Let me put the ring on,” Harry said, taking the ring from the icing and spelling it clean before taking Draco’s hand and slipping it onto his finger.

“It’s beautiful,” Draco breathed, holding it up to the lights to admire it.

“I had help,” Harry confessed and Draco could imagine that help consisted of Narcissa, Hermione, Pansy and Ginny all offering opinions.

“I love you, Harry Potter,” Draco breathed, pulling Harry in for another kiss.

Harry smiled. “I love you too, Draco Malfoy.”

The kiss was soft at first, lingering touches as their hands drifted over each other’s bodies before Harry let out of a soft moan and Draco’s patience snapped. Pushing Harry to the ground, Draco straddled him and kissed him, wet and needy, and it was the best kiss Draco had ever had. If Draco had been tipsy from the wine, he was now drunk on kissing Harry.

Draco pinned Harry’s hands above his head, grinding his hips down and revelling in the feeling of Harry growing hard beneath him.

“Fuck,” Harry hissed, as Draco dragged his mouth from Harry’s mouth, across his jaw, nipping on his ear and working down his neck, sucking on a particularly sweet spot.

“I plan to,” Draco smirked as Harry bucked his hips up seeking more friction.

They stayed like that for a few long minutes, slowly rutting against each other and exploring each other’s bodies with their hands as if there could possibly be more to learn after all this time. One by one their clothes came off until they were both naked. Harry’s naked body belonged in an art gallery in Draco’s mind.

Harry’s mouth moved to his neck and Draco lost his mind in a haze of grazing teeth, warm breath and soft lips. Draco’s fingers skimmed the length of Harry’s cock; hand cupping it and moving up and down. Watching as Harry thrust up into his hand with a whine.

“Want you to fuck me,” Harry whispered, as he moved his hand to palm Draco’s own cock, fingers dancing across the length of it, teasing him straight back. His fiancé.

Draco let out a guttural moan and thrust into Harry’s hand. “Fuck, Harry.” Harry pulled off Draco’s neck, lips red and his eyes so lust blown that only a sliver of green remained. Draco loved seeing him come like this. His Harry.

“Please,” Harry whispered, warm breath ghosting Draco’s face. “Fuck me here and now, I want you in me.”

“I fucking love you,” Draco murmured, conjuring the lube and circling one finger around Harry’s hole and pressing inside.

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, “Fucking love you too,” he moaned, bucking his hips and wanting more as Draco drew it out agonisingly slowly, relishing the tightness of Harry around his fingers. Draco waited until Harry had been about to come with three of Draco’s fingers up his arse and Draco’s other hand wrapped around his cock and then he pulled out.

Draco smiled as Harry pouted, eyes flying open. “If you don’t fuck me right now, I’m taking that fucking ring back,” Harry scowled. Draco had no intention of giving the ring back.

Harry let out a hiss and arched his back as Draco pushed into him. Draco had to pause at the feel of that tight, warm heat. _Fuck_ , it was incredible, with the feel of Harry’s nails scraping down Draco’s back as Draco fucked him.

Harry moved his hand to wank his own cock but Draco battered it away with a firm look. Harry gripped Draco’s hips instead and pulled him in for a slow, messy kiss. Fuck, Draco loved him. Loved this. ~~~~

Draco kept thrusting, slow and steady as Harry’s cries grew louder as Draco hit that sweet spot. Draco bucked his hips harder into Harry with a moan. Draco was getting close.

His beautiful green eyes were locked on his as Draco fucked into him hard, and Harry scrunched up his face as he came, untouched with a cry of Draco’s name. His name on Harry’s lips was all it took to push Draco over the edge and have him coming hard with a cry, burying his face in Harry’s neck.

They lay together a tangle of limbs and flushed sweaty bodies, breathing in sync.

“Greg’s going to kill us,” Harry murmured, his hair tickling Draco’s cheek.

Draco pushed himself up weakly and pushed Harry’s hair out of those green eyes. “What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Harry laughed and took Draco’s hand, kissing the ring on his finger. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco smiled, unsure if he would ever be able to feel happier than he did in that moment. “I think that can be arranged.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you all enjoyed this and please do leave kudos and comments because they are the best thing ever!!
> 
> Find me on tumblr [@gracie137blogs](http://gracie137blogs.tumblr.com) if you ever want to chat :)


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